Worthing Flash

  Shortly after midnight, the police broke into Grace’s home, and took her eldest son, David, away. He had been wanted by the police – robbery, assault, civil insurrection – not all of it true. Grace and David knew the police would come to her home eventually to find him, so she had him sleep in the room nearest the front door. The children cried and wanted to know what was happening to David. Grace rocked them to stop their crying, and shushed them. “Go back to sleep, children. We’ll see about it in the morning.” She lay with the children until they were asleep, then stole off into the night to her sister’s home; Grace’s husband was away working. She was much quieter than the police as she crept into Ashala’s home and gently shook her to wake her up. “They’ve taken David. The police came and took him away. He’ll be beaten.” “In public, no less,’ said Ashala. “We must go to the police station to help,” said Grace. “As early as we can.” Ashala got dressed, and they returned...

The paintbrush slipped from Greg’s fingers onto the laminate flooring, spraying gobbets of cadmium red paint across the boards. “It looks like arterial spatter,” he thought, promptly followed by, “I’ve been binge-watching too many true crime programmes. I’ve become a couch potato.” It was a phrase he had always hated, but now he had to admit it described him perfectly. Since lockdown started, he had spent less time actually working on his paintings and more time watching programmes that had never interested him before and would lose their attraction if and when life ever returned to normal. True he had also stood before his easel for hours on end, but his muse had deserted him. More paint had congealed on his palette than on his canvas. He retrieved the brush and gazed again at the half-finished painting: a commission of a poppy field that had come via a local gallery. As if on cue he heard the strains of the Stars Way theme reaching a crescendo – another of his lockdown obsessio...

  The ape and the hippo stood and watched as the last of the escapees were rounded up. You'd think those silly humans would have learnt by now, 'there is no escape' said the ape. 'That's right' replied the hippo, it's been two years since the uprising and not one human has successfully escaped'.  'After centuries of mistreatment and captivity we animals know every trick in the book, our human zoos are very secure'.  Yawning the ape said ''let's get a move on it's been a long day. I'm looking forward to hanging in my favourite tree and having a banana smoothie'. 'For me, it will be a long mud bath and put my hooves up' said the hippo. 'I'm just glad we're not going to be out here all night, the flamingo flying squad saved the day when they spotted those humans running across the Plains'.  Meanwhile, as the hippo and his ape offsider headed home, all was not well in the animal land world. ...

  Steve Jones coughed as he got out of bed and he felt a twinge of pain from his chest. He smiled; Corona, not very likely. He was a fit 40 year old and very keen on running; he could often show the youngsters in the group a clean pair of heels. And he knew he needed to visit his elderly father in the care home. He sighed; dad had been there for two years after a serious illness and instead of being the kiss of death that Simon had hoped and prayed for, thanks to the home’s loving care, dad was healthier than ever.  It was very frustrating for Simon; his ex-wife was bleeding him dry and he strongly resented keeping her in the lap of luxury. His dad’s money was the answer but the care home was even more expensive than usual. Of course he’d gone through the usual charade of 'nothing is too good for you, dad' but there were limits and these had been exceeded some time ago; enough was enough. Then halfway through his breakfast he stopped; suppose I do have Corona;. I am very like...

  The planet is groaning, Mother Earth is chastising, Nature is rebelling, human destruction needs stopping! Creatures of all kinds yearn for freedom; They cry “Enough of the martyrdom”. Animals in all countries took action To prevent further their habitat destruction. On humans they have exacted their revenge To force the quagmire to change. On humans the earth struck a major blow Affecting what they revere; their cash flow. Humans are asked to stay in for a while, Most of them complaining “this is vile”. Unwilling to live indoors for weeks as recluse To abide by the rules, many of course refuse. As all species, human or animals, are connected, For the sake of the planet, Covid 19 must be deflected. Meanwhile, nature is breathing out of its every pore. Many once-hidden sounds unexpectedly come to the fore The sky is a dazzling blue, devoid of airplanes, the air is clean, The chirpy birds are elated, the grass is a rich vibrant green. In the spring of 2020 the ...

  Sue put on the nurses uniform and admired herself in the mirror. It belonged to Debbie, her house- sharer who was safely away on holiday and thankful to be so far away in these difficult Coronavirus times. And she was of similar size so it fitted Sue reasonably well not that anyone was likely to notice and so she could sneak into the supermarket on the NHS hours. Shopping was a nightmare at present and anything that could make it just that bit easier was most welcome. OK it was bending the rules but so was everyone else and on the scale of things she took the view that hers was only a minor infringement and most were doing far worse. She looked again in the mirror and went in the bathroom and rinsed away her makeup before adding some dark under her eye-lids. Then she carefully ruffled her hair and then she smiled. Yes Sue, she said to herself .You look suitably tired and weary; they will feel so sorry for you. She did a final check on her smartphone that she had the NHS hour co...

I employed Dmitri to translate my book into Russian. He knew a lot of colloquial English. I don't speak Russian but my friend Google does so I did the odd spot check on Dmitri.  I found out that he had translated a phrase about a painting being slashed with the Russian for urinated. We laughed about that and also about using the same word for a weed in my back garden. A minor reference to Winnie the Pooh came out as Winnie the defecation. However, when I found out what he had called my Aunt Fanny I decided to sack him.    Derek McMillan lives in Durrington with his wife, Angela, who is also his editor. He writes book, film and TV reviews as well as short stories for publications in the UK, USA and Canada, His latest book is the audiobook "Brevity" which is available on eBay. https://www.ebay.co.uk/itm/audio-books-cd-flash-fiction-Brevity-short-stories/164361970913   He also edits #worthingflash